Time and the Entomologist
by HeartsandEyesDelight
Summary: “How lost are you, sir?” The question startled me, and I looked at him in confusion. He seemed to sense that I needed more than directions back to the freeway… I sighed. “Pretty lost…” -Grissom, Time Traveling, and kids. It isn't M yet, but it will be.-
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI, etc.

A/N: I know, I know. I need to stop starting new stories and finish/update my old ones. :)

But I _needed_ to write this, because it's been in my head since I started Destiny, you see.

Let me know what you think!

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Prologue:

I tried very hard to be scientific about the scene before me—I did. Take a step back, detach emotionally, and observe… like a crime scene.

There were eight children—all Caucasian, except for a single African-American boy, who looked to be the eldest of the group. He was on the swings, with a little girl with light brown hair falling straight and simply to the middle of her back, and dimples as big as Texas. …Strange comparison, but she reminded me of Nick, so I suppose it was unavoidable.

Roughly five feet over, a little girl with dark brown hair in curls brushing just past her shoulders pushed two smaller children on the swing, one girl with strawberry blonde hair and bright blue eyes and one boy with brown hair, a prominent nose and jaw bone, and soft eyes. The older girl pushed slowly, spoke softly, and giggled gently at the younger children's amusement. She seemed motherly, even so young.

Maybe ten feet on the other side of the initial pair was a tire swing—a girl with the same Texas-sized dimples and light brown hair was perched on the black rubber. Her hair was shorter, her body smaller… she was younger, but I was certain they were sisters. Beside her, a little boy with short, tightly-wound, dark brown curls pushed the tire around and around and, at the last minute, jumped onto it. They spun and spun around, their squeals of laughter and delight filling the air, and I couldn't help but smile.

The last child sat with her back leaning against one of the bars of the swing set, far enough away that she wouldn't be hit by the swingers, but close enough to be a part of the group. Her hair was blonde, but a dirty blonde… not golden or strawberry, but decidedly speckled with darker locks. She seemed almost as small as the little one being pushed, along she was clearly older. She was reading a book, seeming quite content to simply sit in the presence of her friends and enjoy the day.

I took in a breath. There. That was not so alarming. Certainly I still had no idea how I had arrived here, but the scene before me was simple… easy to understand. Typical, even.

I moved forward, onto the playground, and the eldest boy immediately stood up, looking at me warily. He glanced over the other children, as well, as if counting to make sure I hadn't already kidnapped one of them. I smiled softly, understanding his concern, although it was strange in a boy so young. It was good to be afraid of strangers.

I held up my hands as if to show I meant to harm and certainly had no weapons, and kept a safe distance from the children who had now slowly but surely stopped their various activities to look up at me in confusion. I addressed the boy, because he seemed to be the default leader of the group.

"I'm sorry if I scared you kids… I, uh… I'm just lost, is all. I'm not exactly sure how I got here. Can you… tell me where, exactly, I am?"

He lifted his chin defensively. "Las Vegas, Nevada. This is Johnny Appleseed Park." He tilted his head, and I took in a row of apple trees that certainly weren't native. I wondered when the drought concerns had ceased and the city had decided to plant fruit trees in a desert. Surely I'd have heard something about it.

I nod, slowly. "I… shouldn't you kids… be in school?" I glanced down at my watch, as if in sudden realization. It was May at ten thirty in the morning. Certainly schools wouldn't let out for another week, right?

"There's no school in July."

My eyes widened in alarm. July? There was no way… they must be confused…

The smaller Texas-dimpled girl spoke up. "Nicole, doesn't he look like the guy in all the pictures at your house?"

The two dark-haired children and the older boy's eyes all snapped to me with a new kind of concentration, and I felt I knew what living in an aquarium must be like for fish. I took a hesitant step back, but the tall boy was moving towards me slowly, his wide green eyes searching and inescapable.

…How strange. They reminded me of Warrick, when he was perusing a difficult piece of evidence. Come to think of it, it certainly couldn't be common for a black man to have green eyes, could it? I puckered my lips in thought, but it seemed that it mattered less what I was thinking and more what he was thinking.

"How lost _are_ you, sir?"

The question startled me, and I looked at him in confusion. He seemed to sense that I needed more than directions back to the freeway… I sighed. "Pretty lost…"

"I think… I think you need to come home with us. Talk to Mom. She'll know what to do."

I narrowed my eyes. Following a large group of children home certainly didn't seem sensible—any mother would find it strange to find a man bordering on fifty being led home by her children. But then, what else was I going to do? Apparently I didn't even know what month it was…

I nod, slowly. "If you… think that's okay. I don't… I don't want to alarm your mother."

He shook his head, slowly. "I don't think it can be avoided at this point, sir."

I looked at him, waiting for clarification, and received none. So I just nodded, and he turned his back to me, moving closer to the other children and speaking to them, rather than to me. I had to strain to hear him.

"Okay, we're all going back to my house and asking Mom what to do… find someone's hand to hold and let's hurry, okay? Look both ways…"

"We _know_," chorused the children, clearly used to his directions. They rolled their eyes and he glared playfully while they all found someone to hold hands with and started walking along as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a middle-aged man to follow them home from the park. I shoved my hands in my pockets, trying to feel as though I belonged with the group of strange children.

Glancing down, I realized that the shy girl—the one who had been reading rather than playing—was at my side, matching my pace silently, watching the ground in front of her feet. At my glance she looked up and gave me a tiny smile, as uncertain as it was endearing, and I couldn't help but return it brightly, despite my confusion.

It was not a long walk, perhaps a block or so away, and then we were walking up a sloping driveway, a large blue house with a sweeping lawn and a white porch with a porch swing. I drew in a hesitant breath, wondering what I would even say to the woman they were leading me to. How could I explain that one moment I had been slowing to a stop at a red light and the next I was laying on the ground in a park I'd never heard of, though I certainly knew most of Vegas?

At the very least, I could explain my confusion… tell her that her son had suggested I ask her for help, because they were unable… I would try to put her at ease. I could tell her I was in law enforcement… that always seemed to comfort people.

I was led inside, and the pile of small children kicked on sand-filled sandals and rushed down carpeted-lined stairs in a house that, at first glance, appeared to be floored completely in hard wood laminate, with the exception of the stair-runner and several large, plush area rugs. I stood still in the doorway, and the older boy glanced at me and gestured that I should follow him up the stairs, and then preceded me, calling out "Mom?" as he went.

Moving up, I glanced at the pictures lining the staircase. There was one of the black boy and the two dark-curled children. I wondered if the younger children had been adopted or if it were the other way around… The next picture was all eight children at Christmas time… they were all dressed in Santa hats and black and red dress clothes. They didn't look much younger, so it must have been this past December.

The final picture before the stairway ended in an open kitchen and dining room looked like it was much older, and a little faded. I glanced at it and then did a double take—it was a photo I had in my home right now, of the team. We'd taken it several months ago, in a rare moment in which we were all working together and happy, as the case had been resolved easily, with very little harm done.

I was off to the left side, looking sheepish and out of place, but Warrick had slung an arm over my shoulder, bringing me into the frame, making me a part of the larger family. On his other side, Nick's arm was over his shoulder, and the free hand held Sara's gently, and she positively beamed between his soft grasp and the vice-grip of Greg on her other side, who also seemed to be happier than normal, but that might just be the proximity to the beautiful woman. Catherine was on Greg's other side, beautiful as ever and smiling coyly, her expression enigmatic and somehow still knowing.

I loved the picture… but I could not for the life of me fathom why it was here. The tall boy caught my eye, and gestured with his head up to the kitchen, which was empty. I moved into it, in silence, glancing around and catching another curious detail—the space above the cupboards was filled with decorative platters and bowls, plastic leaves wrapped around the thin railing there, and the platter up there looked like the one my mother and father had gotten as a wedding present. We had eaten our holiday turkeys off it every year, growing up.

I heard the back door opening, and turned—the boy was coming back inside, and at my questioning eyes, replied, "She's out in garden, repotting this crazy old plant she's had for, like, ever. She said she'd be right up."

I nod, slowly, and open my mouth to question—what, I don't know. Perhaps who he is—who his mother is—why there is a picture of my team on his wall—but I don't get the chance. The back door swings open again and I look up immediately to see… but _no_, it couldn't _possibly_ be…

A nearly-fifty year old Sara Sidle dropped her jaw and the potted plant in her slim fingers at the same moment, looking stricken at the sight of me. The resulting crash and breaking of the ceramic pot hardly registered—the chaos in her eyes was deafening.


	2. Chapter One: May 2004

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: :) Let me know what you think... hopefully I'll have another chapter up tonight, and then I'm thinking about updating my others. ...Hopefully. Hehe.

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Chapter One: May 2004

I sighed heavily, entering the interrogation room. It had been a long several days following Nick's kidnapping, and the very last thing I felt up to tolerating was a man who was acquainted with three people who'd gone missing in the last week who claimed, according to Brass, that they'd simply been sent through time. Past, future, he wasn't certain, but he claimed that it was his fault—but also beyond his control.

I was less than impressed, to say the least.

I sat down before the man, looking at him speculatively. "Hello, Mr. Turner. I'm Gil Grissom. …Maybe you can tell me what you know about Jill and Martin Baxter, and Lois Hampton's disappearances."

He sighed, heavily, head in his hands. "I already told… Look. Lois is my secretary, Martin is my assistant, and Jill is his wife. I… I had a near-death experience three weeks ago. I had to have bypass surgery… I was medically dead on the table for over a minute. But I remember it—it's just like people describe it, on those shows… you think they're crazy, and then it happens to you… There's the white light, the looking down at your own body… all that. Well, I avoided the light, came back to myself… and then it seemed like… certain people… were different."

I raised an eyebrow. "How do you mean?"

He sighed. "Like… most people, when I look at them… they just look like people. Like they always have… but some people seem… blurry, around the edges. I see them differently, and in a way I've never seen people before. And… those people… if I touch them, they disappear."

"And… you think they're being sent through time?"

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. "Lois appeared in my office three days ago. Like, fell out of nothingness, appeared… and she hadn't been in for a day and a half. She told me she'd been in Las Vegas back when the Rat Pack still ran the city… said she'd seen Sinatra perform! …Personally, I thought she was crazy. But when she went to leave… well, my… my door to my office… it had had that… fuzzy, blurry quality all day… it had been giving me a headache. As soon as she moved through it, she disappeared again."

I nodded. I didn't think the man was lying, but he was certainly out of his mind. "Okay. And… what makes you think they disappeared because you touched them?"

"I… I felt it. When… blurry people… touch me… it tingles, like static electricity. I know that I'm causing it and I've been trying to avoid people, but… You have to believe me, sir."

I sighed, and rose, offering him my hand to shake. "I'll talk to Captain Brass… see what I can do."

He looked at my extended hand warily. "Sir… you… you're blurry."

I raised my eyebrows, surprised, but after a moment cracked a grin. "Well, I'm not too worried about it. I'm a scientist. If I get sent somewhere, I'll merely think it's quite the adventure. Really."

I offered my hand more insistently and the man hesitantly raised his, which I shook decisively. He cringed and pulled from my grip, but that was just as well. I left the interrogation room then, finding Brass behind the two way mirror, a smirk on his face.

"If you get sent anywhere interesting, I expect a souvenir."

I shook my head. "Yeah… he's not lying. He believes all that stuff… I think you'll have to cut him loose."

He nodded, slowly, and then glanced at me. "This a double for you?"

I sighed. "I'm half-way through a triple."

"Go home. I can take it from here."

I nodded. "Thanks… I'll see you later."

I left the lab, exhausted, and trudged to my vehicle. I had been intending to stop and see Nick before I went home, but that was before I started the third shift… maybe I would just stop and see him on the way back in… yeah. That was a much better idea. I sighed as I slid into the car, relieved to be able to relax—sitting in your own vehicle was far different than sitting in an interrogation room or even in your own office. There was a sense of comfort.

I turned the key in the ignition, grateful for the air that blew out and into my face. It was warm, but still cooler than the heat outside my door, and after a moment was much cooler. I took a moment to straighten up and blink several times, trying to keep fully aware before I pulled out of the parking lot. I didn't want to drive in a daze.

I didn't live too far from the lab—with traffic it was no longer than a twenty minute drive. Without traffic, if you hit all the lights, it could be as short as eight minutes. Today was a good day, moderate to light traffic, and the first red light I hit was only a couple blocks from my townhome, less than fifteen minutes since I'd pulled out of the parking lot. I slowed to a stop well before it was absolutely necessary, my mind already leaping forward to the leftovers in my fridge and bed. An image of a thirty-three year old beauty in that bed leapt into my mind, unbidden, but not entirely unexpected.

It seemed like ever since Adam Trent had attacked her and we'd begun sleeping together—it had happened first as a matter of desperate, overwhelming need, and had continued as a matter of course… neither of us had ended it, therefore it didn't end—I had been unable to think of my bed without thinking of her in it. And she was positively exquisite, naked and defenseless, wrapped in satiny gray sheets, her hair fanned out on the bed beneath her. Even when her hair was straight when I entered the bed, by the time I left, it had curled with sweat and heat. …I began to associate her curls with the happily sated expression on her lips, and could not now examine them closely without feeling the beginnings of an erection.

Which was not necessarily a bad thing, all in all.

But she had been spending all the time in which she was not working or sleeping at Nick's side in the hospital, and I tried very hard not to be jealous of that. I knew she wasn't interested in him, but that she had become very close with him, since moving to Vegas. …I just had a hard time with the knowledge that his bedside vigil prevented my new favorite bedroom activity—making Sara scream.

Because she was surprisingly quiet, in bed. I had expected a screamer—really, with the temper she has, and the flair for making comments across the lay out table that might would make a gay man want to bend her over it… I was certain she'd be loud. But I learned, the first time we were together, that other than her breathing, she was nearly silent, unless speaking—"harder" or "don't stop". And even this much was rare. Her first orgasm with me had been an immaculate explosion of emotion and pleasure across her features, but the only sound which escaped her lips had been a breathy "Oh!" before she dipped her forehead to rest against my shoulder abover her as the passion overtook her.

The second time we were together, I teased her into vocalizing. I could feel how wet she was through her jeans before I even sought to remove them. I had spent countless minutes on her breasts, bringing her nearly to her peak just by stimulating them alone, before allowing myself to move lower. I used my fingers and my mouth until she was writhing under my efforts, silently… but when I slowed down every time she got close, even going so far as to remove my fingers entirely and simply kiss her thighs… she screamed.

"I'm going to _kill_ you, Gil Grissom, if you do not make me come this minute!"

Those words had nearly made _me _come that minute. And when I finally let her, she was as loud as I had always dreamed of.

I braked completely, trying to turn my thoughts from her slender frame and the expression on her face when she orgasmed to the task of driving. The person in front of me turned right, and I lifted my foot from the brake, easing forward.

When I opened my eyes—when had I closed them?—I was flat on my back under the Vegas sun. Except it was not a late afternoon sunset, but a gentle, mid-morning trickle through the few puffy clouds that were present… and there were trees above me. I sat up, slowly. Lots of trees. I was sitting on grass, twenty feet off a bike path, and surrounded by the sounds of children laughing. A park.

Glancing around, I noticed a playground twice as far from me as the bike path, with children. There was no one else around me, but then… generally, children were accompanied by adults. I could… what, ask for directions? The last thing I remembered was stopping at a red light, but clearly that could not be the last thing which had happened to me, because I was no longer at a red light… nor had I been hit by another car. I certainly wasn't in the hospital… or even injured in any way.

I rose slowly, my knees stiff, and moved towards the playground, hesitating at a safe distance to scan the scene before me. There were several benches, around the playground, but no adults occupying any of them. Did I ask the children for help? For directions? …Children weren't always reliable.

I moved a little closer, trying to gauge their ages—older children might be of some help. But I was struck at the sight of them. I don't know why… I had never seen these children, nor was there anything else particularly special about them. I took a deep breath, looking away and then back again.

_I tried very hard to be scientific about the scene before me—I did. Take a step back, detach emotionally, and observe… like a crime scene._


	3. Chapter Two: July 2019

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

A/N: Let me know what you think. :)

* * *

Chapter Two: July 2019

Her deep brown eyes were wide, and then her hand came to her mouth, shaking as if in horror. But then, I doubt I looked much better. Tears sparkled against her eyelashes, and then she collapsed. …Literally, collapsed into a heap.

The boy and I rushed forward, coming to rest on either side of her. It was unclear whether she'd lost consciousness for a moment or simply lost her ability to support herself—her eyelids were fluttering meekly, and she looked dazed.

"Mom?" the boy's voice came in obvious distress. This seemed to help. She looked at him, and then slowly sat up, eyes wide.

"I'm… I'm fine, Eli. Really. Where… where is everyone?"

He sat back on his heels, seeming relieved. "Downstairs in the playroom."

She nodded, slowly, looking between him and me. She reached over and hugged him tightly. "I'm really fine, honey, I'm just… surprised. Can you go down and make sure they're not destroying the place? …Don't tell them anything, I promise I'm alright."

His eyes were uncertain—skeptical—but he nodded and rose, giving me a calculating look before moving to the stairs and going down them quickly. His exit left us no choice but to look at each other. I didn't know what to say. Her eyes were wide… uncertain. She looked at me with that penetrating stare of hers, and somehow I felt as if she knew everything I was thinking.

"I…don't understand."

I nodded, slowly. "I… don't either. I, uh…"

"You're dead, Gil. I… how are you… _here_?" The tears fell now and her whole body trembled and then she drew a hand to her mouth. "Oh god, I've finally lost it. I've lost my mind just like she did."

Distantly, I'm aware that she means her mother. Also distantly, I'm aware of what has happened. I've traveled in time. Lyle Turner had been right. Far more prevalent, however, is my looming mortality. "I… I'm dead?" I shake my head, frantically. If Sara was fifty-ish, then I could not have moved more than twenty years ahead in time. …Which meant I would die before I was seventy? How had I died?

I shake my head, and pull her to her feet. "You're not crazy Sara… or, at least, if you are, then I am too. I… I think I travelled in time."

She laughed—a disbelieving, hysterical thing. "Oh god, I'm crazy. I'm absolutely nuts…" She looked up at me, laughter gone from her. She shook her head slowly. "...Oh hell, who cares?" And then she was kissing me, tears streaming again, the most passionately desperate thing I had ever known. I could not end it when she so clearly needed it.

When she finally did pull away, she hovered an inch from my lips, breathing softly, and opened her eyes reluctantly. She sighed in relief. "…You're still here." She said in wonder, and I realize she expected me to disappear when she opened her eyes. I manage a small smile.

"You're not crazy… I… there was this… suspect, today. He said that he'd had a near-death experience and that, ever since, anyone he touched who was… well, he said they looked blurry, to him… were disappearing. Moving through time. And he told me that _I _was blurry, and I thought he was crazy… I shook his hand, Sara, and then… now I'm here."

She kissed me again—it was hungry this time, and her hands gripped my shirt desperately. Her tongue brushed against my lips, slipping inside them with the slightest of pressures, and then her hands were on the shirt buttons. I clutched them, awkwardly.

"Honey, you… there's kids downstairs."

Her eyes widened, and she glanced towards the stairs. "You need to meet… oh, but… what if you disappear?" She looked positively frightened. "Make love to me, Gil, please? …I don't know how long you'll be here. Please, just once more."

I swallowed hard, trying to make sense of things. "I, Sara…" Who was I supposed to meet? I clearly wasn't her son's—Eli, had it been?—father. …And Sara never said 'make love.' Something was different.

But then she was kissing me again, my shirt unbuttoned before I had realized her hands were on my chest, and then I was backing down a hallway, out of the kitchen, and then falling down onto a bed, with her above me. If I had ever believed that my desire for Sara was simply because she was young—and I had questioned it, occasionally—I was wrong. She looked roughly my age, and yet I wanted her as badly as I always had. She was beautiful now, her face gently lined and wisps of gray peaking through her dark locks as she had been as a twenty six year old girl with too many questions and her ponytail swinging behind her.

She broke the kiss, and I looked up into her eyes, wanting to question everything… She beat me to it. "…How far back in time are you from? …Have… we…?"

I nod, frantically. "Nick's in the hospital, from the… kidnapping."

She kisses me hard again, her hands moving down to my waist and fumbling with my belt. I find the edge of her shirt and remove it quickly, breaking the kiss in the process. "So… Warrick… he's…"

I remove her bra just as my belt comes loose and she slides my pants down my legs, not bothering to unbutton or unzip. "…He's… what? He's spending every day at the hospital, just like yo—Ohhh…"

Her mouth was around me then, and all rational thought left my mind. Clothing fell away, and I trembled as I slid inside her warmth—it felt as good as always. She moaned, loudly, and I couldn't help but grin. She wasn't quiet anymore. I wondered if that was because of me. She clung to me, desperately, kissing every inch of me as if she could not get enough, and I struggled not to lose control when she orgasmed at my slightest movements.

It must be the circumstance which caused this… I was certain that I was not that much better a lover than I had been yesterday. She came three more times, screaming out my name and her love for me—which was something we had never said to one another in my time, but it was obvious by her reaction to me in this one—before begging me to come with her the next time.

We lay, exhausted, for a moment, before I forced myself into awareness, sitting up. "Sara, honey… there are kids downstairs. We should get dressed…"

She rolled her head over to me, eyelids heavy, and nodded, sitting up and kissing me deeply again. "I love you Gil… so much."

I don't know what to say to her, and she looks sad. She rises, picking up clothing, but I catch her hand and pull her back over to me. "I love you too." I see tears brim her eyes again, and he hugs and kisses me again, a desperate woman.

We dress hastily, and move out to the kitchen where she glances at the clock. "I'd better make the kids some lunch… and… we need to talk."

I nod, coming back to myself and remembering that I know nothing of the time I've found myself in. I sit down, while she pulls out three boxes of macaroni and cheese out of the cupboard and fills a large pot with water and places it on the stove.

"So… I… died? …When?"

She glances at the pot and then comes to sit with me. "Well… six years ago… we'd just moved back to Vegas, and—"

"We get married?"

She nods, slowly. "In 2009. In Paris, actually…" She smiles softly, her expression wistful.

I look at her for a moment. "And this is…?"

"2019. It, uh… it was our anniversary a few weeks ago, actually… Would have been ten years…" She looks down at the counter top beneath her fingers and I narrow my eyes, concerned with my death but now, also, with the children in the house with us. The older boy looked roughly ten, and there was no way he was both Sara and I's biological child…

"And the… kids?"

She nodded, slowly. "That's… what we need to talk about. You're a daddy, Gil. Or… you will be." She lifted her head, her eyes narrowed as if in irritation at her inability to speak correctly to someone from the past who was sitting in her present.

"…Eli?"

She bit her bottom lip. "That's another thing… Warrick, he… he's dead too."

My eyes bugged out. For me to have died before I turned seventy was hard to grasp, but for Warrick to have died before he was fifty…? That was insane. "What? When?!"

"2008."

I shake my head. "In… four years? That's… impossible!"

She shakes her head slowly. "No. He… He tried to take down Lou Gedda and… well, there was a mole in the department. McKeen. He… he killed him, Gil."

I shake my head in absolute disbelief, and she sighs, tears brimming again… but then, I realize, I'm crying too, and she's holding me, and I'm clinging to her. I can't let her go. It couldn't possibly be true… I loved him like a son.

"Mom?" Eli again. She pulled from me and wiped her eyes, slowly.

"Eli. What's wrong, baby?"

He looked between us again. "Just… I came up to see if lunch was almost ready." He looked pointedly at me, and then back to her. "Are you okay?" I got the feeling he didn't like me very much… his mother did not react well to me.

She nods, slowly, and glances at the stove where water in boiling. "I'm okay, honey… I, uh… we were actually just talking about your dad. ...Your real dad. You know how I get…"

He nods, slowly, while she gets up and moves to the stove to add the noodles. I get the feeling that Eli is older than his years—she speaks to him half as a companion, and half as a son… which makes me sad. Apparently, my death had left her very much alone.

"Well, uh… I'll tell everyone that it's coming. …Will and Sam are getting kind of grumpy."

She nods. "Yeah, it's a little late… they should be laying down for nap already. I'm sorry hon, it'll be done in about fifteen minutes."

He nodded, glanced warily at me again, and disappeared down the stairs. I watched him go, and then turned to her. "So… Warrick's his father? Why… who was his mother?"

She looks down, stirring the macaroni. "Tina. He marries her… soon, for you. A week or two. …I think the whole thing with Nick made him think about how short life can be and…" I nod, and she sets her spoon down and moves to the fridge to pull out butter and milk. "Well, anyway, they divorce, but… Eli was a few months, when he died. Tina… I don't think she ever stopped loving him. She… killed herself about a year after he died. Eli wasn't even two yet, you were in Paris teaching at the Sorbonne…"

I look up at her. "_I _was? … Where were you?"

"Las Vegas. …We were waiting for a research grant to go through and you were teaching but I was… doing nothing. So when Ecklie called and wanted a recommendation for a CSI to replace Riley—" I'm sure I looked confused, because she clarified. "She was hired shortly after Warrick…" She looks down. "Well, she left, and he wanted an experienced CSI at the lab until they could hire someone else, and I… I needed to go."

"Why?" I felt hurt that in my future, and her past, she had left me.

She sighs deeply. "I… I needed to leave on better terms." At my look, she clarifies, but I can tell that she's oversimplifying, in order to get around to answering my original question. "I… burnt out. So, uh… I needed to prove to myself that I could do it… that I was strong enough."

I nod. Though I hated to admit it to myself, it was not all the unbelievable that she would burn out. She had always taken cases too close to heart.

"Well, anyway… uh… I was actually the CSI assigned to the case. Her daycare called when Eli didn't get picked up… and then called her emergency contact, when she didn't answer. …She had changed it to the lab only a few days prior to… well, anyway. Neither of them had any family… I couldn't stand the idea of him going into foster care. So… you came back to Vegas and we moved back into the townhouse, with Eli."

I nod, slowly, trying to wrap my head around it. "Our research?"

She shakes her head. "We called and rescinded our grant request. I stayed at the lab, at first, and you worked at UNLV." She glances back at the stove and jumps up, realizing her noodles are certainly done, and dumps them into a strainer before adding her ingredients. This brings me back to the thought of children.

"And… the others?"

She smiles, softly. "I'll introduce you… we've got the whole pack here. Ellie had a baby too, but… well, we never see Ryan. …It tears Jim up."

I nod, slowly, and stand up. "Plates?"

"Middle cabinet."

I pull out a stack and then look in the drawer below me to find the silverware, before setting the table. She calls to the kids who storm up the stairs while she dishes out the macaroni, and I look at them all again with a different awareness. I was pretty sure I could pick out whose children were whose, but I would wait for Sara to tell me.


	4. The Kids

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Sorry it's short. :) Tell me what you think of the kids! And the names! :)

Thanks!

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Chapter Three: The Kids

Sara seemed, after the initial explanation of my presence there, to accept it as fact. I had somehow, inconceivably, travelled ahead in time… and that was all there was to it. But the concept, to me, was not so straight forward. How on earth had such a thing occurred? And why? How was I going to get back to the past and, if I never did, what effects would it have on the future? Would the kids around us slowly disappear as my absence from the past changed the pattern of events our lives had moved through?

I was distracted from my dilemma as each of the children slid into chairs and ate happily, Eli and the dark-curled children saying "Thanks Mom!" and all the others thanking 'Aunt Sara.'

I turned my gaze to the dark-haired pair. They both had my blue eyes, and Sara's darker hair color, though it looked like the girl had Sara's loose ringlets and the boy had my tightly wound curls. They're faces were more oval, like mine, rather than the triangle of Sara's jaw, but they lacked my cleft chin… and had her cheekbones, too. They were beautiful.

"Twins?" I asked her softly, gazing from the kitchen into the open dining area where they all ate. She smiled softly and nodded.

"Warrick Gregory and Nicole Catherine."

I grin, playing the names in my mind. Warrick Gregory Grissom. Warrick Grissom. Nicole Catherine Grissom. Nicole Grissom. …Nicole. I laugh softly. "Nick wasn't mad that we named a girl after him?"

She chuckles. "He was a little upset, but admitted that 'Greg' didn't really translate into a girl's name quite as easily…"

I smile affectionately, watching the pair. Nicole was sweet and motherly, as she had been at the park, moving the little blonde girl's milk up so that she wouldn't knock it over and picking up the fork of the other littlest child—the boy with the strong nose and jaw—from his chair where he'd dropped it and giving it back. Warrick was playful—outgoing. He joked and laughed openly, but always kindly. They were wonderful children.

"How old are they? Seven?"

"Eight."

I glance at her.

"Eli… calls you mommy?"

She nods. "I didn't ask him to, he just… started. I didn't feel like I could tell him to stop. …I didn't really want to, either. He called you 'Daddy' too."

My heart fills up at the words and I wrap an arm around her tightly, breathing into her ear. "They're all so beautiful…"

She squeezes me tightly. "I see you in them every day."

They finished eating and, one by one, brought their dishes to the sink before prancing downstairs to play. Eli was going to put in a movie for them. Sara washed the faces of the ones who needed it, and then took the hands of the little two, gesturing me to follow.

She took them into the hall bathroom where they each went potty and washed their hands, and then they moved into a spare bedroom, crawled into the full sized bed together, and each pulled a book off the nightstands. Sara smiled at them softly. "Just one book today, and then it's nap time. We ate lunch a little late today…"

They wheedled her for more books and she kindly told them no, and within five minutes they had laid them aside and snuggled under the covers. She turned the lights off and turned on quiet music, before leaving the room and pulling the door until it was only open a crack. We moved out to the kitchen and I glanced back at the bedroom.

"…She looks just like Catherine, but…"

"She's Lindsey's, actually. Catherine didn't like that she got married so young, but Paul's a great guy… treats her right."

"What's her name?"

Sara grinned. "Samantha. After her grandpa…" I scowled and she giggled. "Yeah, you didn't like it at the time, either. It's Samantha Lily, actually… Lily was thrilled."

I smile. "I can imagine… and… the boy?"

"Nick's youngest. William Gilbert." I raise my eyebrows and she laughs. "You were surprised then, too. You were always his hero though…"

I grin. "So the girls are his too? They look like him."

She nods. "Kaylie's nine, Angela's eight, and Will is six… Samantha too."

"…We're missing one. The quiet girl…"

She smiles softly. "Greg's daughter. She's a sweetheart. Sara Grissom Sanders."

I raise my eyebrows again, and she laughs. "You never really realized how much you meant to everyone, did you?"


End file.
